


See Everything In A Different Light

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Children, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 22:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: Wanda is called upon to collect Nathaniel from school when the rest of his family are busy. Delightfully, his preschool teacher is blonde-haired, blue-eyed and all around the hottest thing she's ever seen.





	See Everything In A Different Light

**A/N:** Surprise, a short AU while I work on chapters of the longer ones. Hope you all enjoy! My tumblr is [here](https://mximoffromanoff.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to check out my fic tag there or chat to me about fics, I'm always open :)

* * *

"Come on, Wanda, you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Shuffling her phone awkwardly into the crook of her neck to thoroughly shove the bulk of her guitar case into the back seat, Wanda sweeps a strand of hair behind her ear and says, "I just had a really long morning in the studio, we're dealing with so many commissions right now...I thought Nat was supposed to be back by now."

"Her flight was delayed, she won't be back until late and then she's seeing Bruce," Clint says, with all the frazzled tone of a father of three. She's going to say yes, of course. But it's fun to wind him up first. "Laura's at work, I've gotta drive Lila to her archery competition and be a supportive dad and Cooper has rehearsals. _Please_, Wanda."

"So I'm really the very last person you'd ask?" she asks in a faux-wounded voice, and hears Clint sigh. "Okay, okay, sorry for winding you up. Of course I'll go pick Nate up. He's my favourite little guy who isn't my godchild because you didn't think of me."

"Are you going to hold that against me forever?" Clint asks, and she grins into the phone, slamming the door on the collection of belongings in the back of her car.

"Only until he's eighteen," she says, and Clint sighs loudly. "Okay, I'm on my way to collect him. What should I do with him until Laura gets home?"

"Give him some snacks, let Lucky out for a run, he'll probably chase him around for a while," Clint says. "Laura should be home by six, but if she's not then there's fishfingers or macaroni." She hears scuffling on his end of the line and then, "Okay, I gotta go, Lila's about to compete. Thank you!"

Hanging up the phone and sighing as she rehangs the air freshener over her rearview mirror, filling the car with the fresh scent of the ocean instead of the smell of paint clinging to her like a second skin. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she sees a smear of paint on her cheek and absently rubs it away, flexing her fingers where they ache from hours wrapped around a paintbrush. Music kicks in when she turns the engine on, and she steers away from the studio and towards Nathaniel's pre-school, smiling slightly when her phone buzzes with a thank you text from Laura.

She is, of course, one of the younger women outside the pre-school. Looking around at them, glossy straightened hair and manicured nails and perfect monochrome outfits laughing in pretty flocks, she feels suddenly self-conscious. Uncomfortably aware of the inch of dark root growing into the recent red dye job she made of her hair, leaving the bathroom a murder scene, the scuffed sneakers that used to be white, the rips at the knees of her jeans that a vivid bruise from walking into the corner of a table in the studio shows proudly through, the stretched out collar of her bulky beige sweater and the paint under her nails.

But she sees Nate's eyes light up when he comes running out of the school and sees her, and all thoughts of not measuring up to these glamorous mothers flees when he runs full pelt at her knees, and she crouches down in time for him to almost knock her over crashing into her arms. "Daddy didn't say you were coming!" he says very loudly in her ear, enough that she winces.

"Your mom and dad are both busy, and Auntie Nat didn't make it back in time, so I'm here to pick you up," she says, and Nate tilts his head sweetly at her.

"Did you bring me candy?" he asks, blinking pale lashes hopefully, and she grins, shaking her head. "You don't have to tell Mommy!"

"I would feel like I had to tell your mom if I gave you candy when I know you're not allowed," she says, and Nate pouts at her, batting his eyelashes again. "Sweetheart, no. Maybe I'll stick around for dinner and then you'll get ice cream, okay?"

"Okay!" Nate says, all thoughts of sulking forgotten. The easy life of a four year old. "Oh, I have to tell my teacher that I didn't get picked up by a parent. Come with me!"

His hand is around hers and he's determinedly pulling her along with surprising strength before she can protest. But she wishes he had when he calls out, "Mr. Vision!" and the man who looks up at Nathaniel makes her heart start pounding. There's nothing she can do about her appearance except wish she'd dressed a little better this morning, that she didn't look quite so much like an overcaffeinated college student who hasn't done laundry in a few weeks when she is in fact a professional member of a studio and rents a real apartment and has a shiny framed degree. She just has to meet a pair of beautifully blue eyes behind glasses and awkwardly smile while Nate clutches her hand and says, "Mr. Vision, this is my Auntie Wanda!"

"I'm, um...not his biological aunt," Wanda says, internally berating herself for not at least wearing red today. She just got around to polishing her red boots after they got covered in mud walking back from the bar the night Sam insisted going through the woods was a shortcut even though it had been pouring rain for a solid four hours, she should've worn them. Having to soak her feet in hot water for a while after walking around the studio in heels would've been worth it to not be wearing shabby sneakers meeting a guy quite this handsome. "But I'm friends with Clint and Laura, and they're both indisposed, so they asked me to pick him up."

"I've met Auntie Nat," the teacher says, and smiles slightly, and it makes his eyes sparkle and shows off his beautiful jawline and Wanda wishes she was still in high school and it was acceptable to blush and giggle at cute boys. Of course this handsome man has already met Natasha, who was probably effortlessly glamorous and holding a Starbucks and wearing heels and being distantly charming in her way. "I'm Mr. Shade, but the kids call me Mr. Vision. Parents and guardians are allowed to call me Victor. Or Vision, I really don't mind."

"I'm Wanda," she says, and flushes. "Like Nate said. Um, I'll just...take him home. You wanna go home, Nate?"

"Will you play your songs for me?" Nate asks, swinging her hand, and when she looks up Vision is smiling at her, and his eyes are so damn blue that she wonders if they're contacts. No one should be legally allowed to be so naturally handsome.

"You're a singer?" he asks, and she waves an airy hand before she remembers the paint staining them.

"Only when Nate asks," she says, and the little boy smiles smugly before tugging impatiently at her arm. "I better go."

"Have a nice night, Mr. Vision!" Nathaniel says brightly, and Vision smiles.

"Make sure you study your words, Nate, we're having a vocabulary test on Friday," he says, and Nate nods, dragging Wanda away. "Until we meet again, Ms..."

"Maximoff," she says. "But just Wanda is fine." They look at each other for a very long moment, a romance novel moment of burning connection, then Nathaniel yanks on her arm so hard she almost trips and she's forced to turn around and follow him.

She drives him back to the form, opens the door and lets Lucky jump all over her, covering her clothes in a fine layer of pale gold hairs. Nathaniel takes off out into the fields with the dog and a ball, and she steals a few strawberries from the tangled vines by the front door and flops down amongst the cushions on the couch, tugging her book from the corner of her backpack and settling in amongst the background sound of Nathaniel imperiously ordering, "Lucky, _drop it_!" Letting her imagination carry her away to the school, to that handsome teacher, to exactly what she'd teach _him_.

Clint gets home just as Wanda is withdrawing a baked mac and cheese from the oven, pouring Nathaniel his drink, trailing an overexcited Lila and Cooper both talking about their evenings, and Laura gets home not five minutes later, immediately pouring herself a glass of wine. "You're a lifesaver, Wanda," she says, and Wanda preens slightly as she portions food out onto six plates, intending to stay on for a while now. She empties a bag of salad into a bowl, arranges pots of dressing on the table and the family converges.

"Auntie Wanda met Mr. Vision today!" Nate pipes up, and Wanda tries not to flush when she notices Laura smirking into her wine glass.

"What did you think of him?" Clint asks, reaching around Cooper for the salad bowl. "He's nice, isn't he?"

Wanda only feels the blush creep an inch up her neck before she decides to just own her sexuality. She's twenty eight, she has a real job and an apartment and a cat, and she can boldly say who she is and isn't attracted to. So she smiles over her forkful and sweetly asks, "Why didn't you tell me that Nate's teacher is the hottest thing I've ever seen?"

Soda streams in a fascinating way directly out of Clint's nose, setting all three of his children to giggling, and Laura grins wickedly at Wanda across the table. "Don't mind him, he's embarrassed that you commented," she says. "Nat said she thought Mr. Shade is unusually attractive for a teacher too. Clint doesn't see it."

"Well, he's just...a teacher!" Clint blusters, and Laura smirks at Wanda while the children stare at their father in quiet bemusement. "He's got like...arms. And a face. Like a normal human man."

"Whatever you say, darling," Laura teases. "I'm pretty sure Wanda thinks he's got exceptional arms and an exceptional face. And since you haven't dated since that girl that Clint didn't like-"

"I never said I didn't _like_ her, I just thought she was a little...not right for Wanda..."

"If you're attracted to Mr. Shade, I give my full blessing to you asking him out," Laura concludes firmly, and Wanda grins, triumphantly forking up another mouthful of mac and cheese.

"Are you saying that Aunt Wanda wants to have sex with Nate's teacher?" Cooper asks in a distant teenager tone, and Wanda blushes.

* * *

Trying to mix the perfect shade of brown to match Scarecrow's paler stripes, while the cat lies blissfully basking in a patch of sunlight, Wanda is interrupted by her phone ringing, leaping to answer it. "Hi, Wanda, honey, could I ask a favour?" It's Laura's voice, and Wanda reaches up to adjust the headband that's supposed to keep her hair out of the paint.

"Let me guess, picking Nate up from school?" she asks, and Laura laughs.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asks. "It's parents' evening at the middle school and Clint is out of town. You don't need to drive him to the farm, just take him to your apartment and we'll pick him up on the way back!"

"I can't keep him late, Laura, I've got a gig tonight," she says, and hears Laura's side, can practically hear her mom brain whirring to figure out a solution to the problem.

"Okay, the appointments start at five, so could you drive Nate to the middle school for half four?" she asks, and Wanda glances at the calendar, trying to reschedule herself. "I'll send you the directions, and you can keep him calm by telling him he'll get dinner out tonight. Is that okay?"

"I can manage that," Wanda says. "I'm sure he won't need calming down. He likes my place, he gets to see Scarecrow."

"That's still a weird name for a cat," Laura teases, and Wanda rolls her eyes. "Enjoy the favour, honey. I know you wouldn't get an excuse to see Mr. Shade again otherwise."

"Shut _up_, Laura," she says, and hangs up on Laura laughing. Setting her paintbrush down, she walks away from her easel, Scarecrow following her to wind around her ankles and purr adoringly while she examines herself in the mirror. At least she's touched up her roots since she last collected Nathaniel, and she has warning of a cute guy.

After showering as much of the paint off herself as she can, she ties her hair up, knowing she'll curl it later to enhance the indie image she tries to project at her gigs. A careful amount of make-up, not to look like she put effort in but enough to draw attention to her eyes - though obviously her eyeliner wing goes awry and she has to make it thicker to fix it. The outfit is much more carefully chosen, clean-ish black jeans and a bodysuit with the right neckline to show the perfect amount of cleavage, a big red and black flannel over it, struggling to clasp necklaces without chipping her nail polish, and shoving her feet into heels.

There's significantly less random crap in her car now, and she pulls up to the middle school making sure to climb out of the car and set herself in a careful pose. Hoping that maybe Vision will see her and react, she moves closer to the door, tucking her thumbs into her pockets and waiting for Nathaniel to appear. Which he does, and she lights up happily when she sees Vision leaning against the door to let the children flood out. His hair is falling in those amazing eyes, and his sweater is beautifully clean and pristine white, and Wanda sashays right up to the steps to collect Nathaniel, letting him jump around her feet and hug her arm.

"We're gonna go to my place for a bit," she tells him, and his face lights up. "You can come see Scarecrow if you want."

"And who is Scarecrow, Ms. Maximoff?" Vision asks, still leaning on the door. It's unfair how good a man can look just _leaning_, when his clothes fit as well as Vision's do and he has all the advantages of blonde hair and blue eyes and a perfect smile and gorgeous cheekbones.

"My cat," she says, unconsciously looking up at him from beneath her lashes in a come hither look. She'll tell Natasha and Laura it was unconscious when they make fun of her for it, anyway. "I'm thinking about getting Tin Man and Lion and Dorothy too, you know, complete the whole set."

He laughs, and she basks in the achievement of making someone so good-looking laugh at her lame joke. "Do you like cats, Nathaniel?" he asks, and the little boy nods eagerly. Then he looks back up at Wanda and says, "You look nice today, Ms. Maximoff."

"Auntie Wanda is playing guitar on a stage tonight, Mommy told me!" Nathaniel pipes up, and Wanda really needs to reconsider how often she says to babysitting when four year olds are this good as wingmen. No need to try and casually drop anything into conversation for a potential flirtation to latch onto, Nathaniel will just blurt it out for her.

"You're a musician?" Vision asks her, and she laughs slightly.

"Hardly, I play a gig every once in a while and try to persuade Nate's parents to let me teach him," she says, but Vision just carries on smiling at her.

"What do you play?" he asks gently, his voice so soft that she wants to wrap it around herself like a blanket, luxuriate in his beautiful clean accent.

"Guitar and piano, a little bit of ukulele for fun, drums when I can borrow a friend's set and annoy his neighbours," she says, and Vision's smile widens slightly. "I play gigs every so often. But they're not in classy places."

"I have friends who enjoy frequenting those kinds of establishments, Ms. Maximoff," he says, and she tries to pretend that it isn't sending a frisson of excitement through her every time he says Ms. Maximoff in that sweet, soft voice.

"Well..." She takes in a deep breath, tries to imagine Natasha poking her incessantly and glaring at her, and shoots her shot. "Maybe if you're not doing anything tonight, you could come along? I still have flyers with the address on them."

"I'd like that," he says. No hesitation, and she has to privately shout down the loud voice inside herself insisting he likes her as she hands over a flyer and takes Nathaniel's hand to lead him out of the playground.

Once she's dropped Nathaniel off with Laura, only making an apologetic face at her friend for the lollipop she gave him to keep him quiet after the novelty of playing with Scarecrow wore off, she takes the car home and catches a cab to the bar she's playing in and quickly changes in the bathroom. Swapping jeans for a short skirt and fishnets, shaking out her hair after she found time to curl it while Nathaniel was watching TV, smoking out her eyes and adding lipstick. Once she's done, she looks more like someone about to play this gig.

Under the lights and the smoke, she presses her fingers to the guitar strings and drifts away into songs. A few covers to get the crowd paying attention and excited, then her own music, sad and wistful and sweet. Towards the end of her set, she finds Vision's face in the crowd, now changed into a tighter sweater in a darker colour that distracts her so thoroughly she almost forgets her own lyrics.

When she's done, and she's set her guitar case safely backstage, she slides down into the crowd and finds him by the bar. "Buy a girl a drink after she's entertained you for an hour?" she asks, and he smiles and summons to bartender to mix her a drink.

"Did you write those songs yourself?" he asks softly, and she nods. "You're very talented." She smiles slightly into her drink, and he says, "So if this is your night job, what do you do during the day?"

"I'm an art therapist," she says, and he brightens, looking so interested she can hardly breathe. The last date she went on involved the guy talking over her about his data analysis job, not getting excited about her work. "And I have a place in a studio for art and knitting and pottery that's connected to an online store. We have a lot of fun."

"Sounds like a far more interesting life than teaching children," he says, and she just grins. "Would you send me a link to the store? I've just moved apartments and I'm trying to decorate."

She does. And she pretends she isn't smug when it's one of her paintings that he buys. She just spends the day beaming into every corner of the studio until a ball of wool gets thrown at her, then sits and gazes happily at Vision's number now programmed into her phone.

* * *

Three rings, and Natasha picks up the phone with a, "I'm on my way to a dress fitting, but you can have five minutes."

Rolling her eyes slightly, Wanda asks, "What's appropriate to wear to go teach a group of kids how to express their emotions through painting when I'm also very into their teacher?"

Natasha laughs, and says, "Send me your options and I'll check while I'm waiting at the salon. Go shower, I know you're freaking out."

"How do you know I'm freaking out?!" Wanda asks, affronted, as if she isn't fully aware that Natasha once saw her trip and give herself a nose bleed on the edge of her bed because someone came to pick her up early for a date.

"You always freak out when you really like the person," Natasha says, and even standing alone in her bedroom Wanda blushes. Every time she gets to talk to Vision, scant minutes snatched while she's picking up Nathaniel, or on the nights she's brave enough to invite him to her gigs, she can feel the swarm of butterflies in her belly. The full-blown crush taking root.

While she's waiting for Natasha to approve her choices, she locks herself in the bathroom and checks every inch of her skin for paint splatters. She tried out the pottery wheel yesterday, and it took a solid hour to scrape all the clay out from beneath her nails and paint them black again. At least her hair is clean and shiny, and in the spirit of going to work with children she's tied it into two braids.

After Natasha's input, she ends up in red checked trousers, black boots, a black crop top and her baggy black cardigan that's creeping towards the grey centre of the spectrum after one too many washes. Pulling on Christmas socks decorated in tiny reindeer and shoving her feet into her scuffed black boots, she glances at herself in the mirror and decides she looks suitably like she's going to work with kids. With a touch of red lipstick and eyeliner, because she does have a huge crush on their teacher.

Pinning on her visitor badge at the preschool reception makes her inexplicably nervous, and her heartrate doesn't get any calmer when it's Vision himself that comes to collect her. He's wearing a blue sweater today, black slacks, smiling and nudging his glasses back up his nose when he sees her, and it takes physical effort to not flirtatiously twirl one of her braids around her finger. "You look lovely," he says, and she beams, not caring how obvious it is that she likes him. She's too old to hide how she feels. "You wanna come with me to the class? The kids are all set up with aprons and paints."

When she's standing in front of a classroom of four year olds, all eager to be taught, Wanda has a brief moment of trembling, of nerves that tighten her chest until she can't speak. But then Vision smiles at her, gently nudging his hair out of his eyes, and she smiles out into the room. Nathaniel is sitting in the front row, and she hears him turn to his neighbour and whisper, "That's my Auntie Wanda isn't she _cool_!"

Buoyed up by being called cool, she sets her easel up and says, "So the special thing about painting is how it lets you express your feelings. You can do that by drawing a picture of someone or something you love, or you can just go crazy and splash the colours everywhere to show that you're happy or sad or angry or excited."

A little girl raises her hand and asks, "But isn't that messy? I thought art had to be neat and perfect."

"The thing about every form of art is that it's never perfect." She pulls a bowl out of her bag, the one she made herself, glazed in a grey to match her apartment and probably about to become another dish for her vast collection of rings, pins and bracelets that are too bulky to hang on her jewellery trees. "See how this isn't a perfect curve? And there's a dent in the rim where my thumb slipped? But I didn't try to fix it because art doesn't have to be perfect. It can be messy and it can look odd. Art is an expression of who you are, and if who you are isn't perfect that is okay."

Every child is wide-eyed like she just blew their minds, and she claps her hands and says, "To warm up, I want everyone to pair up and draw something that reminds you of your partner. It doesn't have to be their face, it can be their lunch that they eat every day, or their dog that you see in the playground, or some colours that you think represent them. Use your imaginations!"

"Who are you going to partner with?" pipes up a small boy, and Wanda gives Vision a pleading look until he nods.

"I think I'll be with your teacher," she says, and the class all giggle. "Okay, you have thirty minutes. Then we're going to design Christmas cards for your parents!"

Sitting at her easel after Vision has started some jazz playing, filling the classroom with the soothing rhythm, Wanda looks up at him over it. For all her talk of imperfection being a part of art, she wants anything she does pertaining to him to be perfect. To truly illustrate how wonderful of a person he is, how he's made her gigs calmer, how looking out and seeing him in the crowd makes her happy every single time it happens. How she has feelings for him, and she hopes from the way his gaze lingers on her in crowded bars that at least a portion of those feelings are returned.

She starts with yellow, the colour she always associates with him. Sunshine, happiness, the first flower of spring, that jumper that seems to be his favourite from how often she's seen him wear it. Then the blue of his eyes, the blue that she sees in her dreams and that she keeps using it paintings, that she almost glazed her tiny pottery creation before remembering it wouldn't go with anything in her apartment. She even considered a repaint of her kitchen walls so the blue would go, that's how serious this crush is.

Drawing tiny caricatures of his glasses, she almost doesn't notice the time run out until the children start shrieking. They're all clamouring to show her their paintings, and she praises them until she's almost blue in the face. Vision releases them out into the playground for recess, and she finally takes a breath and looks at his canvas to see what he did for her.

He's drawn her face. But exaggerated, with her eyes taking up almost half the space they're allowed, and a more bewitching green than she knows they really are. He's given her the dark shade of red lipstick she wears to almost every gig, drawn her hair in streaks of red, and all around her he's carefully written the lyrics to her songs. He _remembers_ them, he's really not just at her gigs to look at her, and there's somehow a lump in her throat when she looks up at him. "You know my songs," she says softly, and he just smiles.

"Of course I do, I'm your biggest fan," he says, and she tenses when he looks at her canvas. But then he softens, and she melts. "This is lovely."

"You made me prettier than I actually am," she says, gesturing vaguely to his canvas. Then kicks herself, because that's the oldest fishing for compliments trick in the book.

He looks at her with an intensity in his eyes that makes her heartbeat pick up speed, and says, "I made you look exactly how you always do to me." And before she can open her mouth, he's taken another breath and the words, "Go out with me," rush out of him.

"What?"

A flush rises up his neck to darken his cheeks, and he runs an awkward hand through his hair, nose twitching to hitch up his glasses. "I mean...I like you. I hope I've made that clear. And I would like to go on a date with you." He catches her gaze, and he's frantically saying, "Only if you're interested, I'm truly not expecting anything, we don't have to go out if you don't want to, I just...it seemed like I should ask."

"I'd love to," she says, and his wonderful, brilliant smile fills her world. "Where? When?"

"Um...well, I finish here at five, and the Christmas market is open until ten," he says, and she nods, knowing that she's helplessly smiling. "Tonight? If you're not busy?"

"Tonight's great," she says sweetly, and he _beams_. "You want me to meet you there?"

"Perfect," he says, and she grins. And just before he has to collect the kids and they both have to go back into teacher mode, she lifts onto her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. Then he needs the collecting the kids for the cold outside to calm the blush in his cheeks.

When he picks her up for their date, she's delighted to see that he still has glitter stuck to his face and a bit of paint on his ear. She fell for a preschool teacher, and she gets a preschool teacher, linking their gloved hands shyly together and walking with her around the Christmas market. It smells like Christmas, like pine and cinnamon and gingerbread, and it's already dark to show the twinkling lights strung in every conceivable place. A Ferris wheel is rising up towards the stars, a merry-go-round twirling beaming toddlers around as their parents film them, and an ice rink clustered with shrieking teenagers trying not to fall.

"I, um...I always like to start at the hot chocolate stand," Vision says, and Wanda smiles up at him, lacing their fingers tighter together. She wants to imagine that she can feel the warmth of his skin through their gloves, and his touch is sending goosebumps up her arms even with layers of material between them. "They'll add almost anything to your hot chocolate. They even have a chilli infused one."

"You lead me wherever you want," she says, and he smiles. Takes her to a stand hung with lights and buys her a hot chocolate with extra cinnamon, and she lets herself just drift around the market. Admiring stands of custom scarves, the jewellery cart that she lingers over for a long time before she forces herself to walk away, homemade Christmas decorations and wreaths and an art stall that Vision stands at for a long moment, looking around.

"I don't like any of these pieces quite as much as I like yours," he whispers, leaned down enough that his lips brush her ear and he shivers.

"You really hung that up?" she asks. "You weren't just making conversation about my job to flirt with me?"

"Of course not!" he gasps, scandalised, and she smiles up at him, wondering exactly how besotted she looks. "I hung it up in my kitchen, the greens look lovely there. And every time someone comes to my apartment and asks about it I make sure to direct them to your studio's website and tell them which artist to look for."

Almost dropping her hot chocolate in her haste, Wanda throws an arm around his neck and rises onto her tiptoes to kiss him. It's instinctive, a response to him supporting her, to the way he looks at her, and for a moment she regrets it. Then he kisses her back, and she melts into him, sinking her fingertips into the thick hair at the back of his neck. In the centre of the market, the world narrows to just them, a kiss that she's been imagining since the first day she locked eyes with Vision, with Nathaniel tugging on her arms trying to her to leave.

When she breaks away, Vision ducks his head bashfully, his cheeks pink above the collar of his grey coat. "Mr. Shade...that was certainly worth the wait," she says, and he blushes even darker, though there's a tiny pleased smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I like you a lot, Wanda," he says softly, and she smiles.

"So here's lesson one of being in a relationship with me, Mr. Shade," she says, hooking her fingers beneath his collar and rising onto her tiptoes. "It's also very important in creative writing, according to my college professors: show, don't tell."

And he kisses her again.

* * *

For once, Wanda doesn't wake to the sound of her alarm, but to fingers of light slipping through her curtains and a pair of blue eyes gazing into hers. She stretches one arm above her head as she lazily drapes the other around Vision and pulls him down into a kiss, sweet and soft for the early morning. "Merry Christmas," she breathes against his mouth, and feels him grin.

"Merry Christmas, Wanda," he says, and she smiles, pulling him into another kiss. Sliding her other hand beneath the blankets to run over his bare chest, shifting her legs against his. Neither of them are wearing much clothing, after all, and it seems like a waste to let her hot boyfriend get out of bed without at least some heavy petting.

They're yanked away from each other, his hand still halfway up her shirt, by a pounding on the door. Then a key clicking in the lock, and Nathaniel's voice shouting, "Auntie Wanda? Are you awake? We brought presents!"

"_Crap_, I forgot that Laura would just let herself in," Wanda hisses frantically, scrambling out from beneath Vision. Her clothes from last night are crumpled in different corners of the room, thrown there in fits of passion before she shoved Vision down into her bed and crawled on top of him, and she wriggles back into her leggings, struggling into a sports bra and picking out her usual Christmas jumper. Her hair is beyond saving, messy from the way Vision's fingers curled into it when they were making out, so she throws it up into a ponytail with a red velvet scrunchie. "_Babe_, get _dressed_!"

Vision is marginally more panicked than her - then again, it is one of his students out there, he's running the risk of a child who has to see him as a role model seeing him immediately after a long night of having sex with his girlfriend. The word is still glowing and delicious in Wanda's mind, and she takes a moment to admire her boyfriend's ass as he yanks his jeans up and buckles his belt. His Christmas jumper is much classier than her _FULL OF CHRISTMAS SPIRITS_ jumper, and she smiles at him once he's run a brush through his hair and put his glasses on. "You look gorgeous," she says, and moves to kiss him, toying with the hem of his jumper.

"Wanda, they're waiting for you," he says softly, and she sighs. She's preparing herself for a lecture as she opens the door and finds the Barton family waiting for her, Laura's mouth unfurling into a smirk and Clint's eyebrows shooting up beneath his hair when they see her holding hands with Vision.

"_Mr. Vision_?!" Nathaniel exclaims, his eyes huge and round with surprise. "What are you doing in my Auntie Wanda's house?!"

"Don't be a baby, Nate, you know Aunt Wanda is dating your teacher," Cooper says sourly. Nathaniel looks hurt, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout, and before anyone can start whining Wanda distracts them by tipping the pile of wrapped presents onto the floor, the three children's eyes lighting up as they rummage.

"Can I give you your present now?" Vision asks softly, and she nods eagerly, kissing his cheek as he rummages. He produces a wide, flat rectangle and a small box, and for a crazy heart-swooping moment she thinks it might be a ring.

Inside the rectangle is the painting he did of her, fully finished, every inch of white space filled up with her lyrics, and in a dark wood frame that will match the rest of her apartment. She beams at him, and then turns her attention to the box. To the tiny music note on a slender gold chain inside, the necklace she lingered over for a long moment at the Christmas market on their first date before she forced herself to walk away. "How did you-"

"When you went ahead to investigate the bread display, I bought it," he says softly, reaching to clasp it around her neck. It falls perfectly above her mother's wedding ring, and she reaches up to brush her fingers across the cool metal, slowly warming up against her skin. "I knew it would look beautiful under the lights when you perform. You're a musician."

She completely forgets the eyes on her and pulls him into a kiss, smiling softly against his mouth. But when she breaks away, she flushes under the way Clint is looking at her, the thumbs up Laura is giving her, and Nathaniel's amazed face.

"Mr. Vision has a _girlfriend_!"


End file.
